During my company's long holiday, my birth mother insisted on arranging for me to take a budget road trip to Alaska in a broken-down RV with a 50-year-old homeless man named Derek Stone. Derek was balding with terrible breath and looked absolutely greasy. "Aria, this is all to build your resilience and work ethic. Hothouse flowers can't withstand storms." "Besides, Derek is experienced. He can protect you along the way. This is a growth opportunity others would beg for!" Under the approving gazes of my relatives, I obediently agreed. Then I turned around and gave this precious ride-share ticket to my pampered sister, who kept going on about wanting to experience "vagabond literature." Half a month later, my birth mother received a desperate call from the police station. Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed to the floor. "You're quitting that part-time job tomorrow. You're going to Alaska with Derek during the holiday." My mom, Rachel Lane, slammed her fork down on the table, her tone brooking no argument. My hand froze mid-air, gripping my spoon. I instinctively looked up. "Mom, my project bonus just came through. I was planning to use it for Grandma's surgery fees. I need to stay at the hospital during the break..." "You don't need to worry about the surgery fees. I've already taken care of it for you." Mom dismissed me casually, then pulled out an elegant Chanel gift box from behind her and pushed it toward my sister, Lydia. "Lydia, see if you like it? Didn't you say you wanted this shade?" Lydia squealed with delight, tearing open the packaging and rubbing the lambskin bag over and over. "Wow, Mom, you're the best!" "This bag costs over thirty thousand, right? Where'd you get the money?" My heart lurched violently. I shot to my feet, my voice trembling. "Mom, that's my project bonus I deposited in the account. That's Grandma's life-saving money!" "Smack!" A sharp slap landed across my face, instantly swelling half of it red. Mom pointed at my nose, her face full of disgust. "All you care about is filthy money. That's your sister's graduation present!" "Grandma has doctors there. What are you yelling about?" The slap sent my head to the side, and I tasted blood in my mouth. The relatives around us all set down their forks. My uncle spoke up with a meaningful tone. "Aria, you're in the wrong here. Money is just material possession. Your mother is teaching you about the importance of family." Just then, the private dining room door was pushed open. A middle-aged man reeking of sour stench, with sparse, greasy hair, walked in. He wore a tattered tank top of indeterminate color, his yellowed teeth on full display. As soon as he entered, his murky eyes shamelessly scanned my chest and thighs. "This must be Aria, huh? What a pretty girl." The man chuckled darkly and extended his hand—fingernails caked with black grime—directly wiping it across my clean white blouse. "I'm Derek Stone. Aria, Uncle will take real good care of you on this trip." My stomach churned. I jerked backward. "Mom, you want me to go on a road trip with someone like this? This is a death sentence!" "Outrageous!" Mom slammed her hand on the table so hard the dishes rattled. "Derek is an experienced traveler! He's been all over—what hasn't he seen?" "Having you go with him is your good fortune!" "Look at you now. All you know is making money. You have zero resilience for life." "I'm doing this to build your endurance and work ethic. Hothouse flowers can't withstand storms." Lydia sat beside us eating cherries, adding her snide commentary. "Exactly. I've always dreamed of that kind of gypsy vagabond lifestyle—so free and romantic." "Too bad I'm too delicate to go, otherwise this soul-touching opportunity wouldn't even be your turn." She continued stroking her new bag as she spoke. Her eyes were full of mockery. Derek leaned closer to me, his intense halitosis assaulting my senses. "Baby, I've got grass mats laid out in the back of the RV. We'll squeeze in together—nice and warm." The relatives all nodded approvingly, as if I were about to embark on some stairway to heaven. "Aria, listen to your mother. Don't be ungrateful." "Right. Young people today are too soft. They need to toughen up at the bottom." I looked at these hypocritical faces, at Derek's bone-chilling leer. The last trace of warmth in my heart completely extinguished. I lowered my eyes, concealing the violence churning beneath them. When I looked up again, my face wore an obedient smile. "Fine. I'll go."
Mom froze for a moment, then smiled smugly. "See how easy things are when you're obedient? Derek, she's all yours. Make sure you take good care of her." Derek rubbed his hands together, grinning so hard drool nearly spilled out. "Don't worry. I guarantee she'll never forget this trip for the rest of her life." I sneered inwardly. Indeed, someone would remember this trip for the rest of their life. "Aria, make sure you take lots of photos for me to see." Lydia smiled brightly. I looked at her and replied softly. "Don't worry, Lydia. Such a good opportunity—I'll definitely share it with you." When I got home, Mom tossed me a torn burlap sack. "There are two packs of crackers in there and a sleeping bag. Use them on the road." I opened the sleeping bag. A pungent moldy smell made me dizzy, and there were even mysterious stains of unknown color on it. "Mom, Alaska drops to below zero at night. This sleeping bag has holes—it'll freeze someone to death." "Freeze to death?" Mom was stuffing expensive beach dresses into Lydia's suitcase without even looking back as she scolded me. "Derek brought thick blankets. Can't you squeeze in with him? Why do you have to be so delicate!" She turned around and stuffed a thick wad of cash into Lydia's hands—at least fifty thousand by my estimate. "Lydia, when you go to Hawaii with your friends, buy whatever you want. Don't deprive yourself." "I already bought you imported sunscreen for there." Lydia hugged Mom's arm and whined. "Mom, you're so biased. Aria gets to go cleanse her soul in Alaska, and you give me all this money. What if she gets jealous?" Mom snorted coldly. "She's going to atone for her karma. What does she need money for? If she were half as sensible as you, I wouldn't have to work so hard making these arrangements." I stood in the shadows, watching this mother-daughter bonding scene, my nails digging deep into my palms. At midnight, I was awakened by suppressed voices. On the balcony, Mom was speaking in a lowered voice on the phone, her tone carrying a humility and ruthlessness I'd never heard before. "Derek, I've placated her. Pick her up at dawn during the holiday." I don't know what the person on the other end said, but Mom's voice trembled, then turned firm. "I know. That incident must stay buried." "The person is yours to handle however you want. Whether she lives or dies, she's your goods. As long as that secret never comes to light, I don't even want the thirty thousand. Consider it your service fee." Leaning against the door, my whole body turned cold. Goods? Secret? So this wasn't some road trip at all—it was a dirty transaction. I didn't make a sound, just bit my lip hard. I'd always known Mom hated me. Ever since I was five years old, when Dad died in a car accident on his way to pick me up from school, I became the jinx she cursed. She took all her resentment out on me. Kneeling punishments and hunger were routine. She cursed me with the most vicious words. I always thought she just resented me for taking away her happiness. But I never imagined she actually wanted me dead. Even a vicious tiger doesn't eat its cubs. Mom, if that's how it is, don't blame me.
Early the next morning, I deliberately sat in the living room, flipping through a book while sighing dramatically. Lydia walked by wearing an expensive facial mask, glancing at me sideways. "Aria, you're about to go suffer, and you still have the mood to read?" "Lydia, you don't understand." I deliberately put on a yearning expression. "I used to think it would be hard too, but last night I looked up information and discovered that people like Derek are actually hidden masters." Lydia frowned. "That balding, bad-breath homeless guy? A master?" "Yes! Look at these photos." I opened my phone and showed her several carefully selected, heavily filtered photos of Alaska from online. Lone pilgrims, and silhouettes of beggars packaged as wandering poets. "Derek has transcended worldly concerns. The routes he takes are all wilderness areas where you can see the purest starry skies. This kind of soul-shaking experience, you couldn't buy for millions in big cities." I deliberately lowered my voice and leaned in mysteriously. "I heard these wandering ascetics have quite a few Alaska antiques and treasures—the savings from decades of wandering." "Such a shame. A vulgar person like me only thinks about overtime pay. For someone like me to go to such a place would be a complete waste." Lydia's eyes lit up. That kind of untested arrogance and pathological longing for niche aesthetics was instantly ignited. "Aria, are you saying Derek is actually rich? And this trip is actually high-end?" "More than high-end—it's an admission ticket for spiritual aristocrats." I closed the book with feigned regret. "If you could go, with your temperament, you'd definitely write a bestselling vagabond literature book." Lydia bit her lip, her eyes flashing wildly. "Aria, how about... we switch?" My heart pounded, but my face showed panic. "No way! Mom will kill me. She said this was a special blessing meant for me!" "I'll talk to Mom!" Lydia snatched the book from my hands. "Someone as money-obsessed as you really doesn't deserve to go to Alaska." I watched her determined expression and said silently: Dear sister, you're opening the gates of hell yourself. "Just don't tell Mom I encouraged you, or I can't take the responsibility." "I know, look how timid you are. Go to your overtime work!" Lydia strutted back to her room and even began searching for her most worn-out yet decadently beautiful clothes. I stood at the end of the hallway, looking at the gloomy sky outside, feeling the air was fresh for the first time. The day before departure, my mom Rachel called me into her room. "Aria, this is the budget travel liability waiver the tourism bureau requires. Sign it so Derek doesn't have to worry along the way." She handed me a stack of densely worded contracts, urging me to sign quickly. I pretended not to understand the complicated clauses, but as I flipped pages, my fingertips keenly caught a line of hidden small print at the bottom. This wasn't any liability waiver at all. It was an accidental death and disappearance insurance policy worth eight hundred thousand dollars! The beneficiary column clearly read: Rachel Lane.
At that moment, I felt all the blood in my body freeze. My birth mother not only wanted to sell me to a vagrant to settle a debt, but she also wanted to drain every last penny of value from my life after selling me. She wanted me to die in that desolate wilderness. "What are you looking at? Sign it quickly! Derek is still waiting outside for the receipt!" Rachel impatiently slapped the table, her tone vicious. I took a deep breath and showed a miserable smile. "Okay. I'll sign." I wrote my name stroke by stroke. Rachel snatched the contract away, a flash of wild joy in her eyes, then immediately locked it in a drawer. That evening, Lydia snuck into my room, her tone imperious. "I've prepared everything. I'll go in your place at dawn tomorrow." "Remember, you need to hide at a friend's place for the next two weeks. Don't let Mom find out. When I come back, I'll be the goddess who cleansed her soul." I looked at that face written with greed and stupidity, pretending concern as I grabbed her hand. "Lydia, it's really hard out there, and Derek has a bad temper. You can still change your mind." "Change my mind? I think you just can't bear to part with those antique treasures!" Lydia shook off my hand and snorted coldly. "Mom said Derek is cold on the outside but warm inside, and very knowledgeable." "I even prepared a basic phone. Mom said for complete immersive wandering, I can't bring a smartphone or GPS. Aria, just wait and watch me become famous!" I sneered inwardly. To prevent me from calling the police for help, Rachel would make up any excuse. "Fine. Take this burlap sack and don't blow your cover." At three in the morning, the sky was dark as ink. Rachel was clanking around in the kitchen making noodles. Lydia wrapped herself up tightly, wearing a thick mask and wide-brimmed hat, carrying that worn burlap sack. "Derek, take her away. If this child throws a tantrum on the road, discipline her as you see fit." Rachel lowered her voice. Her tone held no reluctance whatsoever—instead, it carried the relief of shedding a burden. Derek's nauseating voice sounded outside the door. "Hehe, Ms. Lane, just wait for good news." I hid behind the second-floor curtains, watching Derek roughly shove Lydia. Lydia clearly hadn't realized the danger yet. She even turned and waved toward the window, thinking she was heading toward poetry and distant places. Derek stuffed her into the back bed of that dilapidated RV. It was a cargo area welded shut with wire mesh, like a mobile cage. "Click"—the rusty padlock was locked. The broken RV emitted a harsh roar and disappeared into the thick fog. I stood in the darkness, watching that broken taillight completely extinguish. "Lydia, don't blame me. This is the growth opportunity you begged for yourself." I whispered to the empty room. Just then, Rachel's relieved sigh came from the living room. "Finally got rid of that jinx. Lydia, Mom's counting on you for the rest of my life." I coldly curled my lips. My dear mother, the Lydia you're counting on is now sitting in the express train to hell. I opened my phone and called Grandma's attending physician. "Doctor, I've gathered the surgery fees. I'll pay first thing tomorrow morning. Please arrange the surgery as soon as possible." Mom, since you want to play, I'll play with you to the end. When the first rays of morning sunlight entered the living room, Rachel was happily drinking soy milk. She saw me walking down the stairs. The cup in her hand crashed to the floor with a clang, milk splashing everywhere. "You... why are you here?"
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